Red
by improved
Summary: Starting from the end of Chapter 24 of Mockingjay, Red continues the story of Katniss and Peeta's struggle with the Capitol and the aftermath of the war.  Rated a light M for graphic violence/torture and eventual implied intimacy. Spoilers for MJ.
1. Chapter 25:  And the World Burned

_Author's Note:_ This is my reimagining of Mockingjay from the end of Chapter 24, starting with a rewrite of Chapter 25 and onward. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the ending of Mockingjay and decided to write what I envisioned for the characters. I do not think Collins' ending was wrong and mine is right - I simply had to explore a different path for Katniss, Peeta and all of Panem. I hope I do them justice. I look forward to writing this story and hearing what all of you think.

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**Chapter 25: And the World Burned**

_And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off._

Prim.

I lunge forward blindly towards the ball of fire but unknown hands grab me violently to a halt, pulling me back from the inferno. I start kicking and screaming for her, my Prim, trying futilely to run towards the blasts of flames that erupted from the parachutes dropped over the barricades.

Rough hands are grasping at my sides, wrapping themselves around me and pinning my arms to my chest. I try to break free but it's pointless against the arms encasing me. My legs feel like they're full of lead, my skin feels like it's going to melt off from the heat and I can hear nothing but my screams and see nothing but red.

"Katniss! Katniss, you can't-" Peeta yells in my ear, his arms tightening around me. Heat. All I can feel is heat. And my heart starts aching so uncontrollably I feel like it's going to explode like the parachutes out of my chest.

Prim. _My Prim_. My beautiful, selfless little Prim. She's gone. She's gone from me forever and there is absolutely nothing I can do. I can't tear my eyes away from the smoke and ash and snow and flames enveloping the street ahead of me. The image of fire and her standing there with her untucked blouse - my little duck - is seared into my eyelids even when I blink.

Prim. Oh God, Prim! Prim is now the girl who was on fire; engulfed in the incineration blazing before me. She's no longer standing there, no child is. There are hundreds people on fire, screaming and diving into the snow, rolling on the ground in agony, a collision of bodies frantically scattering in all directions. I feel my legs give out but I don't fall - Peeta is holding me up.

"We have to keep moving, Katniss, we're almost there. Please! You have to move!" he shouts. I barely nod, he takes that as confirmation and half drags me towards the outline of Snow's mansion.

The fire in my eyes, the heat and the red. All the red. My retinas are filled with a never ending red that pulses throughout me. It's no longer flames. No. No, it's now blood. Snow's blood. That's all I want now. I can't stop to mourn Prim, not when her murderer is sitting in his house safely a hundred feet away. He cannot live any longer than today.

My vision blurs as water fills my eyes and I can barely see. Peeta pushes through the panic and the swarms of people, rushing towards the mansion on the other side of the Circle. The Rebel Army is pouring into the streets, a calamity of bodies, weapons and debris.

Peeta shields me protectively as I try my best not to stumble and get sucked into the chaos. I can hear screams of misery and pain; heartbreak and despair. My heart is crumbling with Panem's but I cannot lose sight of that mansion and the sickly, rose-scented man that resides in it.

My feet hit a hard, solid surface. We stumble into the frozen fountain in the front lawn to avoid some of the crowd pressing in on us. I start to slip on the slick ice coating the marble tile but Peeta stops me from falling, grabbing my legs and lifting me roughly into his arms. I would protest but my legs feel impossible.

I wrap my arms around his neck and his hands dig into my back and my knees as he presses towards our final destination. He slides to the other side of the fountain and leaps over the railing, tumbling us onto the snow-coated gravel in front of the stairs of the large entry way. I land roughly on my back and feel a sharp pain in my skull. It's nothing like the pain in my chest though. Nothing ever will compare to the pain gaping open my ribs.

Peeta stands up next me and takes my outstretched hand forcefully, yanking me up off the ground. I bring my hand behind my head and touch it tentatively and wince. I can feel the tepid blood trickling down into my hair. I look down at my fingers and see red. It makes my eyes burn.

"Katniss, come on. We have to do it now," Peeta implores. He touches my face and stares into my eyes for the briefest of moments. He looks lost. I can't imagine I look much different.

"We can't go through the front door," I say to him. He nods in agreement and grabs my hand, leading me along the front of the house, his boots crunching loudly in the snow. I clutch my bow under my cloak and then reach my hand not in his awkwardly into my quiver, counting my arrows. I still have them all, protected by the cloak wrapped firmly around my shoulders. I'll only need one, though. It will only take one.

We turn around the side of the house and find ourselves alone, away from the chaos of the streets. We head towards the back, searching for a way in. There are no windows on the bottom two floors, no doors or openings as far as we can see. There has to be another way in. We pass the red brick of a chimney chute. I look up.

"Through the chimney" I say, pointing up at the opening four stories up. Peeta's eyes follow my outstretched hand. He holds his stare there momentarily before he turns his gaze back to me and nods again in affirmation. My eyes follow along the branches hovering near the rooftop and I move quickly towards that tree's trunk. Peeta looks at me nervously.

"I'm really no good at this... Not like you."

"That's alright, just follow me up. I'll find us the safest path to take."

"Katniss, maybe I shouldn't go with you. What if I-"

"I can't do this without you, Peeta!" I snap back at him. He stares at me intensely, his pupils contracting and expanding quickly, obviously struggling with my request.

"Alright," he relents, "Let's go."

I take off my cloak, the burnt wig and some of my layers that would encumber my climb; goosebumps instantly raise all over my skin. I let out an audible shiver before checking my bow one last time. I start shimmying up the tree, glancing every major step to make sure that Peeta is replicating my movements. He moves awkwardly but manages to hoist himself along my path. I climb quickly to the largest branch that hangs over the roof and start sliding across it.

"Wait till I get to the roof before you follow me; I don't want the branch breaking under our weight."

Peeta grunts in response as I continue. I can feel the branch creaking under my weight but it feels secure, Peeta should be okay. I reach the overhang of the roof and start to lower myself slowly with my arms, hovering over the snow-covered shingles. It's about 10 feet, nothing I haven't fallen from before.

I tuck my legs up, tighten my stomach muscles and let go, bracing for the impact. I land awkwardly on my bottom and grind my teeth in pain. It's still nothing compared to the hole ripping open inside my chest.

"Come on now!" I shout to Peeta. He starts his awkward sliding on the tree and gets to the position over the roof, the branch bowing down under his weight. I crawl out of the way and gesture for him to drop. He rotates himself so he's hanging from the branch with his arms above his head. His height makes the drop only about 6 feet. Lucky.

He lets go and lands roughly on his feet before losing his balance and landing on his back. He sucks in a loaded breath but appears unhurt. I give him my hand and pull him up to a sitting position. My body gives another involuntary shiver. His hand leaves mine and moves up my arm, his other crossing over me and doing the same. His palms flatten against my flesh and begin to rub roughly, in an obvious effort to warm me. His fingers feel like fire on my skin. I feel the blood rush to my face and quickly look away.

But Peeta doesn't; his look is absolutely blazing. One of his hands moves up my side and stops at my throat. He touches where I had once had bruises from our reunion. His eyes soften and his eyebrows furrow slightly, tracing along his where his now faded fingerprints had marked my skin. My breath hitches in my throat and I shut my eyes, unable to look at him any longer. His hand on my arm moves down to entwine with mine while the one on my throat slides around to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair. The hole in my chest stills in anticipation.

I open my eyes and jump slightly, startled by how close his face is. He cups the back of my head and slides his hand around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath tickles against my nose. Flakes of snow are speckled throughout his hair and his pupils are rapidly flickering as his eyes bore into mine. I couldn't look away now even if I wanted to.

"Katniss," he exhales against my cheek, his fingers around my head tightening further still. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, that it might burst. My head is swimming and I feel like I'm drowning in his touch. He brings his lips to my cheek and presses a chaste kiss there. He tugs at my hair and fists his hand on my waist into the fabric of my shirt.

I'm kneeling, completely frozen and unable to think. His lips trail across my jaw to my other cheek, placing light kisses the entire way. They reach the corner of my mouth when I realize I've stopped breathing altogether. He pulls away slightly, his hooded eyes never leaving mine, searing into me. His breath rolls unevenly out of his open lips. I can't take it anymore.

I throw my arms around his neck and grasp his hair, pulling his face to mine abruptly. His lips find mine and I melt into him completely. His grip tightens on me as he cups my jaw and grabs my side. The hole in my chest is searing again and tears burn a trail down the sides of my cheeks. Our lips are furious and he roughly parts my mouth with his own.

I feel positively ridiculous but I can't stop him. I won't stop him. This is what I've wanted for months and in this moment I can't think of anything else. I sigh into his mouth and bring my hands to hold the sides of his face. I can hear him mutter my name, and without my control, some low, almost primal sound escapes from me as I clutch to him for dear life.

The pain in my chest gives another lurch and I instantly pull away from him. This is ridiculous. This is the last thing I need to be doing right now. Peeta is here and he's holding me and wanting me and I can hardly bring myself to want anything else. But I have to. I have to finish this. For Prim. And for Finnick. For Cinna and Madge and Boggs. Peeta opens his eyes and gently tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

"Not far now, Katniss," he says softly against my lips. I shake my head down once in agreement, touching my forehead to his. It's slick with sweat and his sweet breath blows unsteadily onto my face. His gaze turns away from me towards the chimney, his hands drop away from me and he starts to crawl towards the stack of red bricks. The hole in my chest gives a lurch at the loss of his touch. My eyes look at the red chimney, squinting involuntarily.

Prim, the children and people of Panem - all of them on fire - blazes into my vision and I can't see anything else. I will never see anything else. The red clouds my sight but I don't stop crawling towards it. The snow in the air begins to blow more forcefully and I can feel it melting immediately on my heated flesh. I know what I came here to do and I won't stop; I can't stop until it's finished. Not until I see Snow's blood staining my hands and my skin and my eyes. He will know the pain that aches inside my chest.

My arrow won't miss its target, not now, not this night.

Snow will see red tonight.


	2. Chapter 26: The Descent

_Author's Note:_ Thank you all so much for your kind feedback and support! I have a very clear vision for what's going to happen in this story and while I can't promise updates will continue to be this fast, I want to make sure you all know that I don't intend to abandon this story, even if it takes me longer than I would like to finish. Please review, I'd love to hear all of your thoughts. I hope you like this chapter; don't skip ahead if you can help it, I promise it's worth your patience!

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**Chapter 26: The Descent**

_Snow will see red tonight._

The wind and snow on the roof blows relentlessly around Peeta and me, threatening our balance and our vision. The light around us is beginning to fade as day turns to night. The mansion is absolutely massive, albeit architecturally traditional, surrounded by a sea of technicolor houses. Except, they aren't technicolor anymore; they are searing red, enveloped in the fires from the bombs and the thousands of people swarming below. Only Snow's monstrosity of a mansion lies untouched. For now.

"Katniss, I'm going down first," Peeta says authoritatively. I open my mouth to object but he silences me with his index finger.

"We don't know who - or what - is down there," I try to open my mouth again but he presses firmer against my lips and I hesitate.

"And I'm not going to let you find out first." I want to object but I know it's pointless. He's just as stubborn as I am. He's also just as reckless.

Taking my silence as affirmation, Peeta swings his prosthetic leg awkwardly into the opening of the chimney. He slips the other in and adjusts his footing, supporting himself with his hands on the outer rim of red brick. Once he seems to have his bearings, he begins to slowly shift his way downwards, his hands and feet working in tandem to support his descent. I peer over and look down at him.

"How is it?"

"Spacious, though a little dirty for my tastes." I snort in response as another gust of wind whips around me and an involuntarily shiver rips through my body from the cold. My vision blurs for a moment as I register the fact that I'll be sliding down a dark, sooty and impossibly small chute. My heart clenches at the thought of being trapped in the darkness but I know I have no choice. I wait to make sure he's far enough down before I call out to him.

"I'm coming now."

I can barely see him now down the shoot but I hear a "be careful" echo up through the small space. I adjust my footing and hands like Peeta's and begin climbing down. The blackness starting to surround me causes my pace to quicken erratically. This would be my worst nightmare, save for losing Prim. My heart clenches at the thought of her name and I look up at the opening to the sky, flakes of snow whirling around in the fading light.

I continue sliding down, staring at the square blue light that gradually grows smaller with each shift in my weight. I lock my eyes onto it, not wanting the panic to set in. I must be at least three or four stories down now. I hear a thud and the shuffling of legs. I don't have to look to know that Peeta's reached the bottom.

"You've almost made it," I hear his hushed voice call up to me. I quicken my pace and can feel the shaft of the brick begin to widen around me. I won't be able to suspend myself much longer.

"You can let go, Katniss. I'll catch you." I keep my eyes determinedly fixed on the faint blue square of sky and awkwardly let my legs stop supporting me. I fall for barely a second before rough arms are grasping my graceless form. I look up at Peeta, his face and hair covered in soot, and he smiles at me tentatively, his white teeth and gleaming eyes contrasting the darkness of the ash on his skin. I wriggle a little in request to be set down; he obliges and gingerly lets me to my feet. I tear my eyes from him and look around at my surroundings, trying to get my bearings.

We are most certainly in the bottom floor, maybe even deeper, due to the very apparent lack of windows. There are a couple of sporadically placed light bulbs with chain switches dangling around the room, swaying out of sync with one another. Hundreds of piles of coal and wood are pushed along the concrete corners and walls of the room. Stacks of unused shovels and tools are strewn across the cold, damp floor.

"Pretty sure we're in the basement; maybe the furnace," Peeta says quietly. I can feel his eyes staring at my face but I pretend to still be assessing the room. Normally, there would be Avoxes down here, keeping the furnaces lit and tended to. All of the furnaces would usually be burning on a night as cold as this, but then I guess, tonight the Rebellion's blaze is more of a concern to the President then the one heating his house.

"Let's keep moving," I offer in reply. He nods and we walk towards the steel door at the other side of the room. I reach for the handle but Peeta's hand encloses around mine, pausing me.

"If something happens, you need to keep going... Without me," Peeta says lowly. I wince at the thought but I know that it's true. Who knows how many Capitol guards and Peacekeepers are defending this place? How many rooms or diversions that make up this massive building? It's almost a certainty that we'll be separated by something outside of our control; it's best to be realistic about it.

"I will. I will for you. And for Prim. F-for everyone," I choke out, trying to hold back the tears threatening at my eyes, the loss of Prim ruining me with every passing moment. His hand on mine tightens and he brings his other up to my face, his thumb brushing the wetness off my cheek. His eyes are searching my own and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, trying to find the words for whatever he wants to say. His brow furrows, his eyes flickering and dilating again, before he speaks in a hushed tone.

"I gave you a locket with a picture of your sister in it. Real or not real?"

"Real," I whisper back, grabbing the chain out from around my neck. I hand him the locket and he holds it delicately. Peeta clicks it open and brings it closer to his face, peering at the small pictures on the inside that he had put in there as his token for the Quell. My mother and Prim. Gale. Oh god, Gale! Where did they take him? Is he alright? The image of him shouting to me, being dragged by the Peacekeepers across the Circle sears into my eyes.

_Shoot me. _That's what he was yelling at me. They were dragging him off who knows where and I was supposed to shoot him, spare him the torture and brutality they were sure to inflict upon him. I had promised I would shoot; I'd failed. A few more tears spill out at the realization that I couldn't keep my final promise to Gale. Peeta places the locket back around my neck and tucks it under my shirt. My vision blurs more as the hot tears well in my eyes, Peeta's ashy figure fading out of focus. His face moves quickly towards mine and I shut my eyes and part my lips, probably a little too expectantly but I don't care - I absolutely crave his touch and comfort now more than ever. He takes my mouth into his hungrily and his fingers grip at the side of my cheek and jaw painfully. Everything else seems hazy and pointless and meaningless in this moment; every cell of my body is acutely aware of the boy with the bread and his eager mouth on my own. And then just as suddenly as it began, he pulls away.

"Sorry," he breathes out, "Just in case, you know, something happens..." His hand falls off mine wrapped around the door handle; it aches at the loss of him - my whole body does.

"Maybe you should open the door, Peeta. I'll get my bow ready in case we run into anyone."

"Good idea."

I shuffle out of his way and prepare a regular arrow in my bow and assume a defensive stance, ready to strike as he pulls the heavy door open. More single light bulbs dangle from the ceiling covered in a myriad of pipes, wires and ventilation systems; an impossibly long hall way, indentations of doors throughout. In this moment, Snow seems impossible to find.

"Come on," Peeta says, putting his hand on my shoulder, signaling me to lower my bow. I start to move forward, unsure of where to go. He starts walking down the hallway and I follow, fingers still holding my bow tightly, unable to loosen their tension. We come to a four way split and Peeta stops; he seems to be considering something in his mind.

"What is it?"

"I know this place. I mean, I've seen it before."

"You have?" I ask dumbly.

"I think I was down here at some point. You know, when they had me."

"Oh," is all I can muster as a response. It makes sense, Snow probably did some of the hijacking experiments right under his watchful eye; taking pleasure in other peoples' pain. All the more reason to kill him tonight.

"I think kitchens are that way," he says to me, pointing to the left, "And I think I was being kept down this way," he now gestures to the hallway on the right.

"How can you tell?"

"I remember them wheeling me out to take me to the balcony for the interviews. In my room, I could smell the food coming from down there. It's all a little hazy though, and I'm not entirely sure where to go... but I know this place."

"We should try to retrace your steps, find where you were and then figure out where they brought you from there." His eyes glaze over at my suggestion but he agrees. We continue down the right pathway, passing more steel doors - lucidly endless rows of doors - with non-sequential numbers and letters painted sloppily on them. We come to another fork.

"Left now," he mumbles. Our footsteps are echoing in the hallways, I'm amazed we haven't been found out by now by anyone. It's cryptic and eerie walking through a place that has witnessed so many horrors; I keep my bow prepared defensively in my hands. It really is too quiet down here for my tastes. I'm sure it wasn't always this quiet though, not when it was filled with the guttural screams of the Avoxes and Peeta.

Peeta stops dead in his tracks, gaping at one of the dozens of doors with the painted numbers and letters jumbled in a completely unrecognizable pattern. The paint is a sickening blood red, taunting my memories of the red in the square outside. I have absolutely no idea what the identification numbers stand for, but I can tell by looking at Peeta that he recognizes them. The color drains from him, his face twisting into something of sheer horror, disgust and panic. I hitch my bow over my shoulder and extend my arm to touch his shoulder. He flinches violently away from me and I yelp. He's clutching his stomach and bracing himself with an arm palming the concrete wall. His breaths come in loud, uneven rasps.

"Don't touch me!" he chokes out. He turns his face to look at me, contorted with rage and I cringe away from him instinctively.

"Okay, I'm sorry! I was just trying to help," I snap back. Probably not the best way to talk to him, not when he's like this.

"Stay away from me, you lying, hideous mutt!" Peeta hisses.

"Alright! Okay, okay, I'll back away!" I take a few steps backwards and slouch against the wall, my eyes never leaving his hunched body. After what seems like several minutes, the veins in his arms start to sink back into his skin as he starts to steady himself mentally and physically. I sit still on the cold damp floor, waiting for his episode to pass. His breath evens out and he slouches down against the door. I can't even begin to imagine what's going on in his head right now; what horrible things he's seeing and reliving, unable to separate reality from his mind's traitorous nightmares. My experience with trackerjack venom in the first Hunger Games gives me only a minuscule idea about what his thoughts must be like. I shudder at the memory.

"We have to get out of here," he finally says, breaking the silence, pushing himself off the ground.

"Fine," I say coldly, standing up and brushing off my pants and adjusting my bow.

Suddenly, in a swift motion, Peeta has me pinned against the wall, my bow and quiver impossible to reach for. I suck in a quick breath and clench my eyes, waiting for some sort of pain. I feel his hands on my face and I squint my eyes infinitesimally. His head is hanging between his shoulders, his blond hair still slathered with soot from our descent into this terrible hell. I can't see his face but I can sense his despair, it surrounds us both more thickly than the snow and ash billowing around outside.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss." His eyes stay locked on the floor, I continue to stare at his matted hair.

"It's fine, Peeta. We're almost done and then we can go home."

"To District 12?"

I cringe at his suggestion. He still hasn't seen it - the obliterated remnants of our home, a barren wasteland of ash, debris and human remains. I can't bare to tell him we can't go back to the home we once knew though; at least, not right now.

"To District 12," I say quietly.

He tilts his head upwards and offers me a faint smile, his hands loosening around my cheeks. I stand there lamely, unsure of exactly what to do. That's when I hear the shuffling of footsteps and the sounds of struggling. My head jerks in the direction of the noise. There were at least three people, one obviously being overpowered by the other two.

"Get your filthy hands off-"

Gale.

A sound of something being beaten erupts down the hallway and then the squeak of boots being dragged. They must have knocked him out, probably again. Peeta glances at me and I motion at the door of the room he was held in. That was a stupid suggestion on my part. His eyes grows wide with horror and plead with me, begging anything but that room. The sounds of Gale and whoever is dragging him comes closer. I point at the other door across from his old room and he quickly enters. I half-step inside of it, keeping an arrow pulled back in my bow, aimed at the cross section of the hallway. The footsteps come closer, and I take aim, ready to shoot whoever has Gale.

I see the white uniform come into view and I don't hesitate, I can't hesitate. I let an arrow fly at the lead Peacekeepers head and immediately reload another one. Before the second one dragging Gale can even register what has happened to his superior, I launch another arrow. It doesn't miss. Both Peacekeepers fall to the ground with Gale's unconscious body slumped under them. Without hesitation, I rush down the hallway to his side. I can hear Peeta following me.

I push the two dead Peacekeepers off of Gale and gingerly pull him towards me. He's badly beaten, his nose clearly broken and his face covered in gashes and bruises, although none of them look particularly life threatening. They probably wanted to keep him alive for questioning or to use him in Peeta's place against me. I stroke my fingers in his hair and softly pat his cheek.

"Gale, wake up. It's Katniss." I can feel Peeta kneel down beside me, taking Gale's wrist into his hands and checking his pulse.

"His pulse is a little slow but he should be okay, I think." I nod at Peeta and turn my attention back to Gale, willing him to open his eyes.

"Don't give up now, come on, Gale," I plead, my voice growing louder in my desperation. His eyes shift under his lids and he lets out a loaded sigh; he's coming to. I can't stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and crying out in joy. Gale's alive! I hug him tightly to my chest, nuzzling into his shoulder. I feel a pat on my back and then a playful tug on my braid.

"Hey Catnip," Gale says weakly. I let out a sob of relief and smile into his shirt.

"What happened to you?" I hear Peeta ask after giving me a minute to fully appreciate Gale being alive and in one piece. Gale gently pushes against me, sitting himself upright and leaning back on the cold wall.

"The Peacekeepers grabbed me in the Circle and dragged me down to some cellar," he pauses for a moment and sucks in a loaded breath before continuing, "I think I blacked out at some point but I heard them talking about throwing me in with 'the others,' though I don't know who they were talking about. Then I came to down here while they were dragging me and I tried to get away. Don't think they liked that." I smile softly and stroke his damp hair back off his forehead.

"How did you two get in here?" asks Gale.

"Through one of the chimneys on the side of the house."

"I see." Gale stands up next to the bodies of the two Peacekeepers I killed. He leans over and grabs their two guns, a rifle and a pistol of some kind. He takes the rifle and hands Peeta the pistol before grabbing extra rounds out of one of the Peacekeepers' packs. I notice Peeta staring at the gun, hesitant about accepting it.

"You don't have to use it if you don't want to," I tell him reassuringly. He offers me a weak smile and carefully slips the gun into his waistband. Gale finishes suiting himself up with the leftover supplies and stands up straight.

"Where to?"

"You said you came from some cellars, right?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've been underground this whole time," Gale replies.

"This way then," I point down the opposite hallway.

"I'll lead," Gale says confidently. I want to say I'll lead us but I know Gale won't listen so I don't object. Neither does Peeta.

"I'll take up the rear then," says Peeta. There's really no point in arguing with either of them.

The three of us start down the hallway. I can feel the ground slope up slightly, which I take as a good sign of heading in the right direction. We reach a door to stairs heading up and I sigh in relief. Gale enters first and goes up half a flight before signaling for us to follow; the stairs, however, only go up one story. We start down the new hallway that feels exactly like the one below; just more of the same.

"There has to be some sort of elevator nearby," Peeta says quietly, breaking the silence of our walk, "I mean, they got me up to the balcony level in a wheelchair." I hadn't thought about that. "That might be the only way out of here." I didn't consider that either.

"The elevator would be convenient, although it may alert our presence to whoever is in the mansion," says Gale.

"It's still probably our best bet to getting to Snow, though," I say. Neither of them disagree. We start making our way through the labyrinth again, trying to find any indication of an elevator. It makes sense that below the mansion would be a maze of terrifying rooms filled with heinous experiments, hidden by the facade of a beautiful, pristine home. If only the people in the Capitol knew the horrors that had been happening right under their noses; actually, they probably wouldn't care regardless, especially now with their entire way of life is disappearing into the flames blazing over our heads.

I unexpectedly hear a very low - but very human - moan and I freeze mid-step. Gale and Peeta stop along with me and give me a questioning look. I put a finger to my lips and then point to my ears, indicating I'm listening. A few seconds pass.

"Katniss, we need to-"

"Shh!"

Another audibly human moan. I brush past Gale a few steps, lithely on my feet as not to make a sound and find the door the groans are coming from. I pull my bow in a swift motion and ready an arrow. I motion for Gale to open the door and I take aim.

"Open it now!" I hiss. Gale yanks the door backward and I prepare to strike; I'm not greeted with an enemy, however, I'm greeted with the foul stench of human filth and a room filled with people in the same state as my style team back when they were tortured in District 13.

There has to be at least a dozen people in this room, chained to the walls in a variety of ways, their clothes peeling away, covered in human decay and waste. I stifle a gag while I let Gale step in front of me. A light switches on and my eyes fade in and out to adjust. Before I can even focus, I hear a completely unearthly sound escape Gale's lips, feeling him rush past me into the room.

"G-Gale?" a weak voice squeaks out from across the room. I see her there, a petite and battered girl with the most beautiful golden hair I've ever seen, curled up on the floor in the remnants of what was once a dress, squinting her eyes at Gale's shaking body.

"Madge! Oh my god, Madge! You're alive!" Gale cries out so intensely that I think my heart might just burst. My mind shuts down and my chest feels like it's going to explode with shock and happiness._ Madge is alive!_ Peeta steps into the room and hurries over to the two of them, leaving me in the doorway completely and utterly stunned, tears streaming down my face. The way Gale is holding Madge, crying and calling out her name through his wracked sobs makes me feel oddly embarrassed; seeing my friend alive when I thought she was dead, however, makes me want to sing with joy. I look away and wipe my face and start looking at the other bodies; most of them lay still and motionless. Then my stomach drops one hundred feet out of my body.

I see him there, his face nearly unrecognizable from the damage done to it, his body contorted and chained to the walls, his arms outstretched and dangling, remnants of a suit shredded around his impossibly thin and frail form. I cry out in shock and fall to my hands and knees, crawling towards him. His head moves up an imperceptible amount, only one of his eyelids slowly opening, a clouded amber eye showing hardly any life within.

I stare wide-eyed and petrified at the face that made me the Mockingjay.

Cinna.

It's my turn to let an unearthly sound of sheer joy and horror escape my throat.


	3. Chapter 27: The Ascent

_Author's Note:_ My continued thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You guys keep me motivated! Sorry this took so long, I was out of town this past weekend so writing this chapter took longer than I would have liked. I hope the wait was worth it! Please review if you can, I love to hear what you all have to say~

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Chapter 27: The Ascent**

_Cinna._

_It's my turn to let an unearthly sound of sheer joy and horror escape my throat._

I'm not really sure how long I've been sitting here on my hands and knees staring at Cinna's decrepit form. I feel my mouth blowing air, my vocal chords vibrating in my throat, but I can hear no sound; Peeta rushes over to me though, looking pained as he touches the crown of my head and gives a reassuring pat, so I'm fairly positive I am still screaming. He strokes a few fingers through my hair and I summon the strength to close my mouth.

Peeta lowers himself down to the ground in between Cinna and me, who is very quietly wheezing against the wall, his one amber eye locked on mine. The damage to his body and face, particularly to his right eye, makes me want to vomit; he's strangely swollen and yet quite impossibly caving in. There are gashes and bruises, abrasions and burns. His lips are brutally chapped and his stare is hazy; I can tell by his erratic fluttering of his one good lid that he's fighting consciousness.

I place a hand on his leg and give a light squeeze as Peeta begins undoing his chains and lowering his stiff arms down for what could be the first time in months, for all I know. Cinna struggles to keep his eye in tandem with mine as I crawl closer to him. I gently take him into a cradling position as Peeta finishes with his last chain.

"I'm so sorry, Cinna. I'll get you out of here, I promise" is all I can think of to say, willing the tears to not spill out of my eyes, not wanting to cry anymore. My throat is dry and my eyes are burning; no, tears won't help right now.

Killing Snow will.

"Katniss, we need to move them both out of here now," I hear Gale call from across the room. I offer a weak reply and smile at Cinna reassuringly (though really I think I am just trying to convince myself) as Peeta scoops him up into his arms. Cinna wheezes out in response, his eye lulling back in his head. I stand up and hastily wipe my knees and turn to Gale, who is clutching Madge to his chest.

"Oh Madge," I cry out, stepping towards her and brushing my fingers along her forehead. Madge smiles up at me and I smile too.

I rush to the door and arm an arrow in my bow. I signal to Peeta and Gale that the coast is clear and hurry down the labyrinthine hallway, looking for a suitable room to bring them. I come across a spare hospital-looking room and motion for them to follow. There are a few gurneys strewn about the room and some cabinets marked for medicine supplies.

Peeta sets Cinna down and I quietly slip my hand into his, giving a soft squeeze. Gale sets Madge down on the trundle next to Cinna's; she seems to have quite a bit more strength than he does. She sits up, clumsily supporting herself on Gale's arm at her side.

"What are we going to do? We can't leave them," I ask, rubbing my thumb over Cinna's palm. Peeta seems to be dressing some of his wounds; I still feel too sick to my stomach to try and help right now.

"I think I can walk," Madge says confidently, looking up at Gale for encouragement. He smiles halfheartedly at her and speaks without looking away from her.

"I'll stay with them. Peeta and you can go get Snow and end this."

"But what if something happens? What if I don't get to Snow? What if you guys are trapped down here? What if they find you and hurt you because of me?" The questions had poured out of me in a panic and I couldn't make them stop. "I can't have anymore people die because of me. I can't! I-I won't!"

No one says anything. Gale opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again; I know he doesn't know how to answer any of that.

Suddenly, I feel the hand within mine stir and slide its way to my wrist. I freeze. Peeta leans back out of the way between Cinna and me so I can see his now heavily bandaged face.

"Please." Cinna's voice is barely a whisper and I've stopped breathing. No one in the room moves or says anything, all waiting to hear what Cinna has to say.

"Please, Katniss." I suck in a heavy breath at the sound of my name wheezing from his chapped lips. My beautiful Cinna looks so broken and battered, but his one uncovered eye is blazing, boring into mine.

"You have to finish this." I lift his hand to my lips and lightly kiss his cracked knuckles.

"I will."

"We'll be alright, Katniss," Gale says, "End it with Snow and come back and get us, we'll be alright. I won't let anything happen to any of us, I swear it."

Gale's eyes are smoldering and in this moment, I believe him. I know that he will do everything in his power to protect them there till I can alert someone to come get them.

Oh.

I grab the Holo that Boggs had given me out of my waist pack and I activate it. I say the commands to transfer my authority over to Gale and hand it to him.

"I completely forgot about this. Use it to contact someone outside; I'm sure the rebel team is pressing in towards the mansion right now - they have to be. Let them know you're down here and that you have some injured." I look over my shoulder at Peeta who is securing the last of Cinna's bandages delicately around his head.

"Get them and yourself out of here, Gale. And don't come looking for us, we'll come to you when I've killed Snow."

Gale doesn't argue with me and I know I've made my point. It's the only way.

"Hey... Katniss," Madge squeaks out, her voice barely above a whisper. I turn my attention to her.

"I think the elevator up to the main floors is nearby."

"Really? Do you remember how to get there?"

"Sort of. They took me up once to... to say goodbye to my father."

"Oh, Madge," I breathe out. Gale starts rubbing circles along her back as she continues.

"It's alright, Katniss. He was hurt badly in the bombings at District 12 anyways and my mom, well - she wasn't home at the time when they came for us. I don't really want to... er, nevermind. I think from here, if you follow down this hallway and make a left at the second split and then your first right, you should come to the elevator."

I am not sure that I've ever heard Madge say so much at once, save when she gave me her Mockingjay pin. There are so many things I want to ask and say to her but I know now isn't the time or place. If I can do this - really do this - there will be plenty of time for us to talk and cry and heal together. That's what I'm doing here, that's what I'm killing Snow for - Panem and its people deserve their lives to be free of all of this pain and devastation and heartache. I have to do this.

"Thank you, Madge."

I turn back to look at Cinna, lay his hand down on the bed and bend over to give him a light kiss on his forehead. A side of his mouth curls into a sort of smile.

"Go get him, Mockingjay," Cinna says meekly.

"I promise I will."

With that, I give a last glance at Gale and Madge and head for the door, Peeta in stride behind me.

We begin down the hallway and the adrenaline starts to kick in. My pulse quickens and my palms start to get clammy around my bow. I keep my eyes locked ahead and searching for any signs of an elevator.

At the second cross section, we turn left like Madge told us to. We traipse down to the first hallway we see on the right and turn. All the way at the end of the new hallway, there's a large metal door with a control panel next to it. I tug Peeta by the shirt and we hasten our pace, racing towards the elevator.

I nearly trip due to my anxiousness when we come to a halt clumsily at the steel door. The control panel to the elevator reminds me of the ones inside the Training Center and I breathe a sigh of relief. I can figure this out.

"They'll probably know we're here once we start heading up."

"Let them try to stop me." I know it's reckless but I don't care. Right now, I'm the Mockingjay. The girl who was on fire. They have no idea who they're dealing with, really. So many innocent people have suffered and died because of the Capitol; I'm enflamed with the burns and wounds of their struggles, the pain and heartache of their losses. I'm the girl who is scorching with red hot revenge for the progeny of Panem and no one will be able to stop me.

I can feel the heat radiating off of my skin, my blood pumping through my veins hurriedly. I'm sure Peeta can sense my blood lust, he doesn't dare try to disagree with me.

I activate the keypad and wait for the elevator to arrive. A soft ding echoes down the hallway as the door opens, revealing a gold gilded transport with a plush red carpet and crystal light fixtures adorning each corner. Peeta and I step inside and I quickly select the highest number floor. If Snow is anywhere in this building, he is most certainly at the top.

That simply means the harder he'll fall.

The elevator gives a jerk and we start our ascension. My eyes flicker to Peeta's out of a tinge of nervousness. He's staring fixedly at the lit box showing the rising floor numbers flash by.

_B3... B2... B1... 1... 2..._

We were a lot further down than I originally thought.

Without warning, the elevator gives a hair-raising lurch and Peeta and I both tumble to the ground, me pinned under him. That's when the lights flash and then go out completely. I let out a muffled cry and try to push Peeta's heavy weight off me. He scrambles sideways and helps me sit up in the darkness. I hear him rustling for something and then a blinding light illuminates his face. He holds a lighter in between us and my eyes adjust to the flame against the blackness. I groan in frustration.

"They know we're here."

"You don't know that, the power could just be out," Peeta offers. I must not look convinced so he continues, "There are bombs going off and fights erupting everywhere in the Capitol; may have disrupted the power somehow."

"We need to get out of here regardless." My fear of impossibly dark and suffocatingly deep spaces starts a swelling inside my chest.

"Oh yes, I agree," he says plainly. I climb onto the gold railing running around the edge of the elevator and steady myself on his shoulders. He holds the lighter above his head and I locate the ceiling panel that must lead to the roof of the lift. I take my bow and start prodding at the panel until it loosens enough for me to push it aside. A dull, red light spills out of the hole and floods the cabin. We're able to see well enough now that Peeta clicks the lighter shut.

"I'll go first and help you up," I tell Peeta. He opens his mouth to probably ask me to go on without him.

"I'm not leaving you in here, so don't even bother asking," I say, rolling my eyes.

I slip my fingers into the opening and grasp tightly, pulling myself through the hole. There seem to be emergency lights lining the shaft, a dim red bleeding into black and fading out again, dust particles visible as they pass the small clusters of lights. I lay down on my stomach on the top of the elevator and drop my hands through the opening.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," I say, matter-of-factly. I keep my hands extended downwards as I watch him stumblingly climb onto the railing, clutching at a light fixture in the corner of the elevator to keep his balance. He extends his other hand to mine and I grasp it firmly, feeling his callouses scratching my wrist. After a moment of awkward leaning, he quickly brings his other hand to my own.

"I need you to push yourself off so the momentum can help me." He grunts in response and follows my orders. My arms are burning at his weight as he lunges off the railing towards the opening in the ceiling. I pull back as hard as I can and he snaps a hand out of my left to snatch at the side of the roof. The sinewy veins in his arms are bulging out as he heaves himself out, loaded gasps escaping both of us. I finally pull him out enough to help his prosthetic leg through the opening, it scraping with a harsh piercing noise as I shift it onto the roof.

"We'll climb up the cables. If the power is out, that means Snow can't go anywhere either."

"You're right."

I reposition my bow and quiver on my back and start my ascent up the cables. My fingers grasp tightly, my legs wrapped around nearly twice to help my hold. I can see the painted number "3" on the steel door nearest us and a distant "4" at the top door. I continue upwards, passing the first door. The weight of the cable shifts as Peeta starts to follow me. I make it up towards the second door with the "4." The cable suspends me about six feet away from the ledge, too far to jump given my current position. Looking up, I can see we're nearly to the roof of the elevator shaft where there are pipes and beams running parallel to one another.

I immediately think of the playground at the Meadow back in 12; my mother holding a swaddled Prim on a nearby bench, nursing her with a bottle, my father kneeling on the ground next to me, barely five years old, after I'd fallen off of the monkey bars, unable to make my way fully across on my own. I was crying, having scraped my knee from my fall onto the dirt and rocks. My father had humored me, singing to me as he stroked my hair that everything would be alright, that Daddy was always there to take care of me.

He then lifted me on his shoulders and up under the bars, letting me grip them and try again, this time with the comfort and security of his shoulders to sit on. He walked with me as I made my way across the bars, never once chastising me for being weak or relying on him for help. After I had victoriously reached the end, he swept me off his shoulders and into his arms in a hug, kissing the crown of my head.

"See, Katniss? You're stronger than you think!"

"Cause I have you, Dad!" I had said to him, beaming and hugging him closer.

Everything was easier when I had my father there. And somehow, I know he's here with me now.

This was all a test. One giant game to be played. I am risking my life here and now for the pursuit of something greater. Being the Mockingjay means I need to lift Panem onto my shoulders just like my father had with me all those years ago. I am reaching the last rung of my journey. Failure is not an option, not when I've come this far. My father would never have abandoned me then. I can't abandon Panem now.

I shimmy further up on the cable and grasp at the closest beam. I use my feet to gain momentum as I cross the ceiling, beam by beam, just like I had at the playground. I can hear Peeta following me now, his low grunts echoing down the shaft as he copies my stride.

Before I know it, I'm at the wall above the door, a small ledge jutting out with just enough room for me to land on. Confidently, I release my grip on the last beam and throw my hand out to grasp at the notches in the wall on the side of the door. It works, though my feet slip a little against the thin ledge. I flush myself flat out against the coolness of steel and look up at Peeta, whose dangling still above me. I shift to the side to give him room to mimic my actions. He somehow does it successfully, his knuckles turning white from grasping at the indentations on the other side of the door.

The red in the shaft illuminates the beads of sweat on Peeta's forehead and in his hair, his breathing coming in shallow gusts. He's staring at me so intensely, burrowing into my very soul. I slide one of my fingers to the crack in the door and he copies me, his fingertips brushing along the edges of my own. My heartbeat just barely flutters.

We then both plunge our fingers into the crack in between the doors and pull. I can feel the muscles in my back screaming at me but I don't listen. His door starts to slide open and then mine does too, springing back into the sides of the walls. We tumble backwards and land on a plush, velvety carpet, cushioning our fall. The doors snap closed, as if it had just spit us out in revulsion, the red light dissipating. It's completely dark and I feel for his hand and grasp it tightly, hoping his other is searching for the lighter.

Suddenly, the room lights up around us. I shield my eyes to help manage the spots flooding my vision. I feel rough hands grasp at me on all sides, I feel my bow and quiver being torn from my back. My grip on Peeta is ripped asunder and my arms are being latched behind my back by far too many hands to be just one person.

The spots clear out of my vision and my eyes adjust just as I feel the carpet being smashed against my face, my arms handcuffed, the muscles in my arms strained by being forced backwards. I can see at least half a dozen pairs of white boots around me, Peacekeeper hands clutching and beating down on my back and legs. I can see Peeta, being pushed down to the ground next to me, his arms handcuffed under his stomach. I can't tell what he's thinking, looking at me the way he is right now. Pleading? Terror? No, that's not it.

I'm not allowed anymore time to think about it however, as that's when I can hear the buzzing of screens turning on. Someone yanks my hair back and forces me to look up at a television suspended against the wall.

Snow, sitting at his desk surrounded by his plethora of roses, hands clasped and a smile dancing across his face.

"Katniss," I hear him say, his sickly voice filling up the entire room.

"We've been waiting for you."

Just then, all of the screens turn to shots of Panem and the Capitol. They show thousands of people, some surrounded by more devastating environments than others, staring at screens. Hundreds of screens. All of them with my face. My face in this moment, inside the mansion at the Capitol, masked Peacekeepers flanking my sides, Peeta at my feet. The screen then cuts back to Snow, his smile more sick and twisted than before, his thick lips stretching to their very limit.

I understand now. I understand that he's been watching me this whole time; waiting for me to find to him, knowing I'd be foolish enough to come for his blood.


	4. Chapter 28: The Reckoning

_Author's Note:_ This was a very difficult chapter for me to write; I do feel, however, that this is the best it could be. I am still eternally grateful for all of my readers and reviewers! You've kept me going when I didn't know if I could finish this chapter. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I look forward to any and all feedback! Enjoy~

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Chapter 28: The Reckoning**

_I understand now. I understand that he's been watching me this whole time; waiting for me to find to him, knowing I'd be foolish enough to come for his blood._

I've never been afraid of dying. Well, not really. The thought of Prim not being taken care of because my being dead was probably my biggest fear, though that doesn't really matter now, does it? At least by dying, I'll be able to see her and my father again. Death, at this point, would be fortunate; a luxury I know that my enemy would never grant me so quickly.

This will not be a happy ending. I fully expect for this to be painful. I have no doubts about that - no disillusions or grandiose escape plans where I triumphantly come out of this unscathed. Resistance seems arbitrary; my bloodlust insignificant. I've been beaten at this game and the end of our costly sport is imminent. I can only hope for a swift, painless death.

I know my enemy lacks such civility. I guess I don't really blame him. I know I wouldn't grant him something so sympathetic. Does that justify his actions, then? Have I become the very thing I've been craving to destroy? An assassin so overcome with rage and revenge that I couldn't see that my vehemence would by my absolute downfall?

The hands start tugging my limp body through the mansion's elaborate gold and wood paneled hallways, I can only assume towards Snow. The screens littering the walls show different shots of me being dragged along the red carpet at this very moment. The whole of Panem must be watching this, the march to my execution. I've never had an outer body experience, but I can only assume that this is fairly close to it.

Peeta is being less cordial than me; he's trying so very hard to resist as they push him along, shouting words and obscenities that under normal circumstances would make me blush. It doesn't really matter now though.

I can't help thinking about my Prim. I guess I am so very grateful that she doesn't have to witness what I'm sure will be my highly televised torture and execution. The fall of the Mockingjay. The Capitol can't pass up such a glowing opportunity to crush the Rebellion so easily. Maybe if I can just focus on being with Prim and being able to see her again, I'll be able to ignore the pain. I can make my death like falling into a peaceful sleep, my sister and father's open arms waiting for me on the other side. My poor mother will be all alone without me alive. Maybe something has happened to her too and my whole family is waiting for me on the other side? That sounds too good to be true. I hope it is.

I hear Peeta being beaten behind me but I don't look around to watch. I hear the sound of a control pad being accessed and the shifting of a door. I'm forced downwards onto a hard metal chair, my arms brought through a hole in the back of it and my wrists secured to a cold steel post, my legs bound to those of the chair. I keep my head hung, my hair in my eyes, not wanting to give Snow the satisfaction of seeing my face.

Peeta's breathing is low and rhythmic and I can tell he's stopped resisting. I'm not entirely sure he's conscious. I tilt my head upwards and peak through my eyes, seeing him slumped on a sofa across from me, eyes closed, deep red blood littering his face, bruises starting to form on his exposed, bound arms.

My heart starts aching with the covetous need to go to him. Our fingers brushing in the elevator can't be the last time I ever touch him, though it probably is. My stomach lurches, the bile rising in my throat. Peeta's endured too much at the hands of this monster. The thought of seeing him suffer anymore, because of me, causes my stomach to churn.

A shrill, high-pitched laugh fills the room. I turn to look at Snow, standing behind his desk, one arm pressed lightly to his chest, the other hand on the table, his fingers drumming rhythmically.

"Miss Everdeen," he says sweetly, shooting me his fleshy smile.

I don't say anything back.

"I'm so glad you came to visit. I must admit that I didn't know if you could do it. I, for one, most certainly had my doubts about your abilities. I see now that I underestimated you," he says lightly, the lips still curled. Snow is not going to make this easy.

"It is quite clear, however, that you have underestimated me."

I internally grimace but keep my face blank. I won't give him the fulfillment.

"Your Rebellion has fought most valiantly, to be sure. I don't believe anyone will discredit them for trying. But you must have known that I would win, Katniss. Surely you must have realized that I wouldn't falter - that the Capitol is stronger now than ever before."

My eyes glance at the televisions all around the room, airing this very speech to the whole of Panem. He's delivering a victory address to the country. I'm the main event. The punchline. His absolution.

My fingers twitch behind me, itching to grab for my bow and quiver that are not there. The handcuffs on my wrists cut into my skin as I shift, a light pain shooting through me. I keep my face completely straight, not wanting to show any signs of discomfort.

"Check him," Snow commands the remaining Peacekeeper in the room.

The Peacekeeper begins searching Peeta's unconscious body, patting every part of him down. He finds the gun that Gale had given him and holds it up to show Snow.

"Bring it here," the President says as he gestures for the guard to hand him the gun. The Peacekeeper sets it on the dark wooden desk and backs away to stand between Peeta and me. The guard must have missed the pill Gale had given him; I hope that Peeta will find a way to be able to take it before his mind is too far gone.

"Leave us," says Snow, almost lazily, flicking his hand towards the door in a lulling way. The Peacekeeper hesitates but backs out of the room and shuts the door, leaving Snow completely alone with Peeta and me. There's nowhere for me to run anyways. The cameras are all watching my every move. I glance around the room and for the first time, I start to really take in my surroundings.

It's still night outside (though the sun has to be approaching soon, given the amount of time we've been here) and I can see the snow gusting about through the large window set behind Snow's desk. The abundance of roses around his room fills the air with a putrid smell, stinging my nose with every inhalation.

I flick my eyes back to Peeta. He's breathing steadily now, looking almost peaceful in sleep. I hear that loathsome chuckle again and I divert my eyes, staring fixedly at the wall.

"You must know that I am so sorry it has come to this, my dear Katniss. This all could have been avoided if you hadn't broken the rules. If you hadn't been so lecherously defiant, we wouldn't find ourselves in this predicament. What a pity." Snow steps around from his desk and struts to the middle of the room, nausea threatening inside my stomach as he comes closer.

His white suit only makes the pallor of his skin more evident, snake-like eyes becoming even thinner as he squints at me, his hands cupping my face, not letting me look away. His hot coppery breath blows into my nostrils. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"You put on a good show, I'll give you that. The Mockingjay will be legendary! She fought valiantly in both the 74th Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell! She foolishly came to the Capitol with her pathetic Rebellion, but it was in vain! Everyone will know that the Mockingjay fell this night! No one will question the power of the Capitol after this, no one will doubt _my_ power."

His palms squeeze hard around my face, his nails digging in at the sides. I feel the skin break and hot blood seeping down my face. I divert my eyes but he yanks harder still, pulling down more skin with his nails as he pulls his hands away. He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping the blood from his hands. It's still clogged under his nails.

A low groan fills the room and I hear the light shifting of a body.

"Ah, Mr. Mellark will be joining us! Perfect. Just perfect!" Snow says, smiling at me. I resist the urge to spit on him, saliva pooling in my mouth as I seethe.

"So tell me, how was it when Mr. Mellark showed up in District 13? I wish I could have been there to see the immediate results of our experiments. I knew I had to get to you, to end the Mockingjay - but how to do it? That silly boy's affections became quite an asset. It was difficult working on him at first, I won't discredit his resistance, he so very loved you; although, that became his very undoing, did it not? Tell me Miss Everdeen, how did you react when you realized I took the very memory of you and turned it in to his worst nightmare?"

All of the saliva has drained from my mouth, an unbearable dryness taking over.

"You're disgusting," I say hoarsely, the words scratching their way out of my throat. This elicits a laugh from Snow as he begins walking around the room. I glare at him with spiteful eyes.

"Oh Katniss, it's a shame the game had to come to this. If you had only been more cooperable, this could have all been avoided! I have no doubts that our hijacking was successful, though I must say, it has been quite endearing to watch the two of you tonight. He's quite resilient when it comes to you, and I am thoroughly impressed that he can suppress much of the tampered memories.

"But to think that my control over him has faded? To think that I do not have him under my command still? That would be so very foolish of you to believe, Miss Everdeen. Mr. Mellark's role in these games has always been that of a pawn -_ my _pawn- and it's a pity you are unable to see that, even now." Looking at Snow now, all I can see is red.

"Leave him alone," I whisper softly. Snow pauses in his pacing and crosses towards me.

"What was that, my dear?"

"I said leave him alone." Snow starts to laugh again but I continue, raising my voice to a shout, "You have me here now, you have the Mockingjay! You don't need him anymore! He doesn't need to be a part of this! Leave - him - alone."

The smile on Snow's face fades and he stretches his lips into a hard line, lightly shaking his head.

"You still do not understand. I suppose that's to be expected, you being from the filthy mines of Twelve. No matter, Miss Everdeen, you're about to realize why I have done this. Why it is necessary."

"I could never understand someone like you," I spit out.

"Hm, perhaps not," Snow muses to himself, "But you and I are the same, Katniss, let's not fool ourselves."

"You take away people's lives for your own enjoyment! You torture people! You've killed children! You use people for your own gain, like they're just pieces in your game! I will never understand you, I could never be like you!" I shout at him, my voice growing more and more hoarse with each sentence.

Snow doesn't say anything as he walks back behind his desk and sits, idly touching his fingers to some sort of keypad. The screens on the walls change from this room to a forest. The forest of the 74th Hunger Games. The next shot shows me, in my perch above Peeta and the Careers, preparing to drop the trackerjack hive down below. A flurry of cinematic cuts shows the Careers being swarmed, Glimmer's heart-wrenching screams as she's overtaken, Peeta and Cato dashing through the forest, batting off the onslaught of venomous mutts, their stingers piercing Peeta's skin. And then it starts all over again: me in a tree, dropping the hive, the chaos underneath, the palpable fear and pain on Peeta's face. Over and over again. On the fourth time through, I divert my eyes.

"You say you can never understand me? That you are nothing like me?" Snow asks, folding his hands symmetrically in front of him. "Did you not kill that poor girl by deliberately dropping the hive, with the intent of killing them all? Did you not lure Peeta into loving you only to try and save yourself? Did you not ignore his call for a cease-fire, resulting in the death of thousands of people in Panem because of you leading a Rebellion? Did you not kill people on the way to coming to find me here tonight?

"Katniss, let us not lie to one another. To say that you and I are nothing alike would be a farce. We are one in the same, Miss Everdeen, and you have done acts just as heinous as mine to end up here, where you sit."

My mouth is dry. How many lives have been lost because of me? How many people have died for the Mockingjay? How many have I killed, the red of their blood forever stained on my hands. And Peeta. I had lied to Peeta to survive the Hunger Games, there is no denying that. But everything is different now, right? I care for the boy with the bread so much so that my body aches for him, the thought of living without him seems impossible. Seeing him here now, knowing all of the pain he has gone through, is hurting me more than I could have ever imagined. All of his pain is because of me. As if on cue, Glimmer's screams echo again through the room, bouncing off the walls. I hang my head in shame.

I hear the sliding of a drawer and Snow stands up, a syringe filled with neon liquid in his grasp. My eyes widen with horror as Snow starts walking towards Peeta.

"No! You can't!" I cry out, tears stinging my eyes, "Stop! Please, don't do that to him again!" My muscles start spazzing in panic but my limbs hardly move, my wrists and ankles burning from their restraints.

"Peeta, wake up! Dammit, Peeta, please!" He stirs restlessly, his eyes shifting under his lids, his arms beginning to tug with unfamiliarity against his cuffs. It doesn't matter, Snow has covered the distance between himself and Peeta and grabs his arm, shoving the syringe in and pressing the venom into his veins. Peeta's eyes shoot open at the contact from the needle, his focus buzzing all around the room, his veins raising all over his arms and neck with strain. Snow backs away hastily and sets the syringe down on the desk and sits in his chair.

I have no words, no sounds that can possibly escape as I watch Peeta in horror. He starts convulsing on the sofa, sweat staining his shirt and glistening off his face. Blood starts to pool around his wrists as his arms fight with the restraints in his spasm. Peeta catches sight of one of the screens and jumps off the sofa, staring at it in horror. Me in the tree, dropping the hive on him, Glimmer screaming, him running in pain towards the lake. Over and over and over again. He brings his head to his hands and tears at his hair, staring in a rage at the television like I've never seen. He turns to me and seethes, his face filled with repulsion and loathing, like I'm some kind of abomination, the most foul and vile human being in the entire world.

Oh, I understand now. Snow's final move in our game. Snow won't be the one killing me. Peeta will. The boy with the bread will take my life tonight. My heart feels like it's dissolving, the realization crashing any inkling of hope I could have had.

Surprisingly, Peeta doesn't lunge for me. He stumbles backwards and crashes back onto the couch and starts mildly convulsing as he stares at the screens. Snow looks positively ecstatic. I feel my vision begin to unfocus, my head lulling down in defeat.

This had been his plan all long. Snow had counted on me trusting Peeta again. He had counted on me bringing him with me to the Capitol on this suicidal mission. And he counted on using him against me in the final act of my life. It _was_ a pity I hadn't seen it sooner. Peeta was dragged into this because of me and now it was my fault he would end my life.

It's so appallingly immoral, so undeniably tragic. Battering Cinna in front of me before the Quarter Quell, bombing District 12, killing my sister, kidnapping and torturing Peeta; they were all strategic moves to destroy me. To break me into the most sorrowful shell of a person before ending my reign of terror against the Capitol.

It is hopeless.

I close my eyes and let my body go limp. Peeta is still writhing and glowering at me from the couch and I know it's only a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds, before his hands are going to be around my throat.

"Peeta, my dear boy," Snow calls to him, his voice laced with both amusement and disdain, "I am so very sorry it had to come to this, but I do need you to listen to me."

Peeta's convulsions diminish into light jerking as he lulls his head to look towards Snow. The veins in his neck are bulging out as they pulse erratically. Snow picks up the gun from his desk and begins delicately fondling it from side to side. Peeta's glazed pupils follow the gun's movements. At least this will be quick.

"You see, Mr. Mellark, I have brought you Miss Everdeen as a present. No longer will you have to let this stupid girl's actions and cruelty pervade you. We can end it here together. Right here, right now."

Peeta's chest heaves up and down with labored, unnatural breaths. I have no argument, no reason to tell him to stop. What is there to even say? I have wronged him on every level. I have caused him pain in every way. It would be an injustice for him to not kill me. At least I won't be around to hurt him after all of this.

Pain. Absolute pain. My skin feels like it's on fire, every nerve in my body heightened, acutely aware of the suffering shock surging through my body, starting from the pole around my hands. My cells are in a frenzy, trying to break out in every direction. I feel a snap in my wrist as my arm fights in a throe to try to escape this torture. Pain. Never-ending, relentless, impossible pain. The burning, it feels like I'm burning and twisting and dying. I am dying. Whatever is happening is death. This is it. Maybe I am in hell. Damned to the fires of hell for every crime I've committed. Every crime against the boy with the bread. This is hell, I will feel this absolute pain for all eternity. I am dead.

And then it stops. My body slackens and I whimper against my will. My skin is buzzing with pain and my teeth chattering in the aftermath. What just happened? Did Snow just electrocute me? That was something else, worse than being electrified. The sound of Snow's laugh fills the room again. Always his laughter. Peeta is gaping at me in horror and revulsion, the gun now in his hands. The boy with the bread with the gun is hands.

So this is how it ends.

"Yes, Mr. Mellark! That's right! You will never again have to suffer because of this foolish girl!"

And the fire returns. I start spasming again, tremors of pain rocking my body. The absolute pain filling me to the brim, exploding in agony. I'm in agony. Absolute agony. Every part of me is rupturing, burning and lava and fire in every part of me. Make it stop! Please shoot me, make it stop! Please shoot me, Peeta! End it please!

The pain stops again. I feel like I can't breathe, sucking in air desperately, my body fighting and pleading to live. It betrays my heart. I don't want to live anymore.

I stare at Peeta. The boy with the bread stares at the gun in his hands. His face contorted in an expression I cannot place. This isn't my Peeta. This is a stranger, twisted into someone else entirely by a monster. This stranger in front of me is not him. My Peeta is buried inside, beneath the neon venom and the bombs. Beneath the hatred and the Hunger Games and the horrors we have witnessed together. That's where he is. My Peeta. My Peeta, the boy with the bread.

_My_ boy with the bread.

My Peeta had saved me all those years ago. My Peeta had given me hope when I had none left within me. My Peeta had given me life when I had given up on living. My Peeta has to know that he changed my life. He must know, he has to know. Peeta has to know that I was irrevocably changed because of him.

"P-Peeta..." I wheeze out, my entire body aching with every exhalation. His eyes are flickering so impossibly fast, his brows furrowed and his face twisted unrecognizably, shooting loathsome daggers at me. He lifts the gun in my direction. It will all be over soon_._

"Th-thank y- ..." Oh God, it hurts to talk. My throat, my limbs, my head; they're all on fire. But he most know. He has to know.

"F-for.. fff-for th- ahh..."

"What are you doing, Peeta, end it now!" Snow commands from across the room. The sun is beginning to rise along the horizon, the window lighting up in a blaze of fiery red and casting into the room, the shadows of the snow flurrying outside, dancing and bouncing around us.

My entire body is acutely aware of these final seconds of my life ticking away unforgivably. These are my last breaths. This is my last moment. My eyes glisten as I stare at Peeta. He's looking between me and Snow, back and forth, back and forth, then to the gun then back to me then back to Snow. I have to finish saying it. He has to know. Peeta must know.

"F-for...the.. bread-d..." I barely whisper. My neck gives out from the weight of my head, unable to support it any longer. He knows. I know deep inside Peeta knows and that this monster in front of me - this monster isn't him, it isn't all who he is. The boy with the bread who loves me is inside and he knows. I want to close my eyes but I can't look anywhere else but at Peeta's, dilating out of control, glowing with rage.

"Do it now!" yells Snow.

In a swift motion, before I can even comprehend, Peeta turns and shoots Snow directly in the chest. Snow stumbles back into his chair, bringing his hands to his stomach in disbelief, dabbing at the red blood seeping out of him, staining the white of his suit and fingers. Snow gives a gurgled, choking sob and slumps in his chair. Peeta drops the gun and falls to his hands and knees, grasping at his hair, threatening to rip it from his head, a harsh groan cutting through him.

The boy with the bread with the gun in his hands shot the President tonight.

And everything fades to black.


	5. Chapter 29: Awakening

_Author's Note: _There's really no excuse for how long it's been. I hope those of you that still have an interest in this story enjoy this chapter. Thanks as always for your support!

* * *

**Chapter 29 | Awakening**

_The boy with the bread with the gun in his hands shot the President tonight._

_And everything fades to black._

Consciousness is fleeting.

My body is heavy and my limbs are useless. I feel like my mind is operating backwards and sideways and my breaths are labored and impossible.

My vision is filled with red hot light and edged with seeping black, flickering in and out, in and out. Everything feels like what I see. Everything aches, everything hurts. I don't even know what I am anymore.

I'm vaguely aware of my body coming off the floor before everything disappears again.

–––––

Shattering, stomping, slamming, breaking; flashes of light, shots and bangs and bursts. I can't hang on to anything.

I feel like I'm dreaming.

Am I dreaming? Am I alive? Is this death?

Did the boy with the bread shoot the President? Or did he shoot me?

This could be death, a stream of consciousness of sounds and lights; no words or voices; just listlessness. If this is death, I welcome it. But my cells and organs still have aftershocks of pain and I do not know if this could be the afterlife when I feel like this. If I were dead, how could I feel these throbs of pain in my skin and bones? This weight in my ribs... this stinging all over me...

Everything is charred, black and gone.

–––––

Coolness melts on my skin in patters, collecting water and soaking my hair. I feel weightless and sore and tired and empty. There's a warmth searing on my cheek. Is that my cheek? My chest heaves and lurches and the weight comes again and I'm breaking.

Time passes. However long it's been I do not know. If this is death, I find it lonely. What I wouldn't give to see a face. Any face. But most of all, my Prim. Anything to see my Prim. I can't even picture her, not even her smile or the light in her eyes or the sun in her hair. Have I already forgotten that precious face, her beaming eyes and how they dance? I try to picture anyone else, but I can't. No faces, no smiles, no eyes. I can't even picture Peeta. My boy with the bread... I don't even know what he looks like anymore. I can't even see myself. I'm nothing and everything and nothing again all at once. The only thing I see is black, not even red.

I would welcome the red now.

I'd welcome anything.

Anything but this.

–––––

_Beep... beep... beep..._

–––––

_Beep... beep... beep..._

The beeping will not stop.

_Beep... beep... beep..._

Please make it stop.

_Beep... beep... _

"Sss-s... wuhh-"

What on earth. Maybe I'm not on earth. Maybe I've moved on to somewhere else.

"Rr-r... t."

And then suddenly, I feel a rush of heated flames on my forehead. I panic. I try to lurch my body, but it doesn't move. Instead, I feel a resistance on all my limbs. Not again. My blood starts pumping erratically, muffling my hearing, boiling in my veins.

"Swee.. ar-rrt." I snap my eyes open and stare, a blinding white light spilling over me. I flash my eyes around, but see nothing solid. Where am I? I can't be dead. This is too real. Where is Peeta? Is he alive? Am _I_ alive? My mind starts buzzing and reeling and I can't make it stop.

"Sweetheart."

Oh. _Oh!_ I know that sound. Probably more than I would like to.

I guess I'm not dead. At least not yet.

I groan in response. I can't move anything on my body but I feel everywhere. My pores still feel like they're burning. A weight drops on my forehead again and it sears at the contact. I cringe in pain.

"Welcome back, sweetheart."

This isn't welcome at all.

I go to open my mouth and an overwhelming sense of thirst consumes me. Water. Just give me water. I can feel my dry cracked lips, the air passing through and scratching my mouth. I cough a little in desperation, an attempt to communicate that all I can think about is water.

Somehow, it's understood and a tube is shoved into my mouth and I lap at it hungrily, filling the cracks and caverns of dryness as fast as I can. I sputter some water back out and the tube pulls away. The whiteness in my vision begins to bleed into blues and greens, hazes of colors focusing in and out of blurry blobs. A dark, round figure hovers to my left. A limb reaches out and lands on my head again. It hurts! Oh God, does it hurt! I try in vain to move out from his hand. _Get it off of me_.

"What's- where? S-stop... tch... W-what am I-" I don't even know what I'm trying to ask anymore, I just want his damn hand off of me _now_.

"Shh, sweetheart. You need rest. You've been through quite a lot, you know."

I feel like hitting him. I know better than anyone else what I've been through. I know what I've been through feels like. And his hand on my forehead, it feels like absolute fire and what I've been through in Snow's office felt like this; like absolute and unrelenting pain. And it isn't going away. It isn't stopping.

"W-where...?" I manage to say through the dry aching of my mouth and the incessantly pressing heat on my forehead. Then suddenly, the pain stops again; the weight is removed.

"You're at the hospital."

No, I don't care where _I _am. I just care where _Peeta_ is. I look frantically around the room, trying to focus, to see if he's anywhere. Everything is still fuzzy and incomprehensible.

"P-puh.." I start to say but the air in my throat scratches again and I can't help but start coughing. The restraints holding me in place only make the cough more difficult.

"Ah, Peeta," Haymitch says softly. His dark eyes stare at me with intensity. "He's in the other room. He's fine."

I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Wuh-why... it – it hurts," I say hoarsely. Haymitch sighs back, the rustling of bodies from other people in the room and the beeping of the machines surrounding me filling the room.

"We're not entirely sure." _How can you not be sure?_ I want to scream at him but the words will not come. "But whatever he did to you that night... Whatever technology that was – we're still not exactly confident we know what it is." He places a hand on my arm and it sears like fire. I cry out in pain and try to wriggle free from him, the beeping in the room becoming a flurry of erratic high-pitched notes, stinging my ears. He removes his hand. I start panting, water filling the corners of my eyes against my will. The beeping in the room becomes a steady pace again. I search his face, pleading with him, wanting him to tell me something – _anything_ – without me having to ask. The pain of speaking is too great.

"Her stratum corneum is still suffering aftershocks." My stra– cor– _what_?

"It's been over two weeks, Aurelius," Haymitch growls back.

I have so many questions, but my brain can't even form a coherent one to ask. My lids feel heavy and impossible, my mind on a fizzling decline. My eyes catch Haymitch's and he stares back at me – is that fear? Sadness? I cannot tell.

"–I'm not a miracle worker, Haymitch. Snow had his own ways that I do not know."

"This is your effing job, man. Find a way to fix her. We can't let him see her like this."

"I'm doing everything I can."

"You're not doing enough!"

"You have to understand that her nervous system has been completely traumatized. I've never seen anything like this be–"

I hear a crashing noise so loud that if I could move, I would have jumped. The blurry figure of Haymitch is standing now, heaving laboriously.

"I don't want your excuses. We need her fixed. I need her fixed. And he..."

I faintly see him collapse down beside me, his head cradled in his hands.

And then the voices become so distant, I can barely hear them. I cannot see Haymitch's face anymore. I cannot tell what he's feeling anymore.

All I can tell is that I'm gone again.

–––––

Time passes. Sometimes achingly slow, sometimes faster than we can tell. I have a cognitive understanding of what's happening now.

I'm laying in a hospital bed. My arms and limbs are strapped down to it and I haven't moved for weeks. I'm fed through a tube and I can't remember how I got here. I scream if anyone touches me. All I do is burn when I feel human touch. The doctors find me fascinating. Haymitch finds it infuriating. I haven't seen Peeta and everyone refuses to say his name. I'm beginning to believe that Haymitch lied to me and that he isn't fine. I know he shot the President. He shot him dead and I'll forever see the red spilling onto Snow's white coat and Peeta's scorn-filled eyes.

What do my eyes say when people look at me?

–––––

Haymitch comes into the room. I turn my head to look at him, expressionless. He sits in the chair beside my bed and knowingly grabs the railing by my hand, but avoids my touch. We've all learned I cannot be touched.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" His question is okay, but his face is sad. I don't want to look at him anymore, but it's either that or the ceiling. I'm sick of the gray ceiling.

"How do I answer that?" I say back. I've been awake in consciousness on and off for a few days now – at least I think it has been days now.

"Do you feel any different?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"Has anyone made contact with you?"

"No, not since I spit in that nurse's face." I wasn't proud of it, but she was changing the cord in my arm and the pain was unbearable. She kept telling me it would be over soon and it wasn't. It wasn't over soon at all. She wouldn't stop touching me and I wouldn't stop screaming. I did the only thing I could do. I spit what amount of saliva I could muster at her face, hitting her square in the eye. She had recoiled in horror, touching her lined face to wipe off the spit. I haven't seen her since.

I suppose that is for the best.

Haymitch chuckles at me and pats my shoulder. It doesn't hurt when people touch me over my clothes. Not really. I barely wince.

"You have always been exceptionally personable."

"Ha ha," I say flatly. We stare at each other for a moment. How I wish I could turn my head and feel the comfort of his touch. Anyone's touch. Peeta's touch... If only I could see Peeta, maybe he could touch me? He was there when this happened to me, maybe he's immune.

"Where is Peeta?"

"We've been over this before, Katniss." I wasn't going to back down.

"No. We haven't. You won't tell me where he is. No one will tell me where he is. No one even talks about him, except to reassure me he's fine! Why can't you just tell me why I can't–" I start choking from talking too much, the dryness in my mouth catching the rest of what I want to say in my throat. Haymitch sighs and grabs the tube for water and holds it to my mouth. I drink as much as I can before he pulls it away.

"You can't lie to me forever," I say quietly, my throat still burning.

"I know that."

"Then why can't you just say something? I haven't even asked you today how much longer I'll be here or where I am or what's happened to Coin or where are Gale or Madge or Cinna. You won't answer any of it." Tears spring in the corners of my eyes. "And I don't know why."

Haymitch looks at me sadly.

"If I tell you everything is fine – again – will you believe me?"

I turn my head to look at the ceiling.

"Not today."

Haymitch lets go of my shoulder and stands. I can see him out of my periphery but I don't make eye contact.

He leans down and places a hand by my head on the pillow. I still refuse to shift my gaze. I feel his breath, with twinge of alcohol, blow against my ear as he whispers.

"You'll be alright. He knows you."

He stands straight again, giving me one last look before leaving the room.

Daytime and nighttime are obsolete to me in this room. I can't even be sure if anything exists outside of it. All I know is that Peeta knows me, the girl who was on fire.

Even if I disintegrate to ash today, never to be seen again, I have that comfort in my heart.

I hear Haymitch's footsteps leave the room, but the door doesn't close. Another pair of footsteps come in, an uneven pattern as they walk closer. I strain my head to the side to see.

His face is gaunt. The dark circles under his eyes are purple and flushed. His veins in his neck and on his arms are pronounced and bruised. His hair is flat and dry, grown longer than I'm used to ever seeing.

But he's here and he's looking at me.

I stare back at him in disbelief. He steps closer and kneels at my side, his face lined up with mine.

"You came back to me," I say impossibly quiet, unsure if I've even spoken at all.

The pupils in his eyes flicker in and out, in and out and I instantly want to recoil for fear of what he might do. He closes his eyes and keeps them shut.

"Peeta?" I ask after what seems like hours, but I am sure it has only been a minute.

He opens his eyes and locks them with mine and I can't look away even if I wanted to.

"I came back," he says softly.

And for the first time since I can remember, I smile.


End file.
